Meadow gazed at him, so touched by his story that tears misted her eyes. “Wow,” she whispered. “Just when I thought this meal couldn’t taste any better.”
Logan gave her a soft smile, then picked up his fork and began eating. Every time she swore she couldn’t possibly love him more, she was proven wrong.
“I love you,” she said quietly.
His eyes glittered at her. “Because I’m a good cook?”
She laughed. “Well, that certainly doesn’t hurt.”
He grinned and winked before saying softly, “Te amo.”
She smiled. “Don’t ever stop.”
“Couldn’t even if I tried.”
Warming with pleasure, she brought her glass to her lips and took a sip. The wine was a perfect pairing. Delicious and cold, the rich notes complementing the spices and herbs in the Milanesa.
She put her glass down and spooned creamy mashed potatoes into her mouth. “I love the way you embrace all sides of your background.”
“All sides?” Logan teased. “Didn’t you say I’m mostly just a white boy?”
She giggled. “You don’t forget anything, do you?”
“Nah, babe.” He grinned, forking up a bite of the delicious beef. “Santino used to call me a mutt because I’m half Canadian, a quarter American and a quarter Argentinian. He’s the one who taught me to embrace all aspects of my identity, especially my Argentinian roots. Which is no surprise, given that he’s Latin American.”
Meadow smiled warmly, eating another forkful of food. “Did your mother cook Argentinian dishes?”
“Not as well as Santino and Roxanne.” Logan’s lips twitched. “But that’s okay. She made the best chocolate cupcakes.”
Meadow’s smile softened as she gazed at him. “Do you think you’ll ever visit Argentina?”
A shadow flickered in his eyes. He didn’t answer for several moments. “I don’t know.”
She didn’t press him. She could only imagine how painful it would be for him to visit the country his mother had escaped to after abandoning him.
He picked up his glass and took a long drink, watching her over the rim.
She decided to change the subject. “I got some interesting news today.”
“Yeah?” He lowered his glass. “What?”
“My father broke up with Wendi.”
Logan’s eyebrows shot up before a slow grin spread across his face. “Told you.”
“I know,” Meadow laughed. “You totally called it.”
“So what happened?”
She relayed what Wendi had told her, enjoying the range of expressions on Logan’s face as he listened. When she’d finished speaking, he gave a low whistle and shook his head in grim disbelief.
“Holy shit. That got ugly.”
“Right? Who knew Wendi had such a nasty temper?”
Logan chuckled dryly. “Some women don’t take breakups very well.”
Meadow raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like you’re speaking from experience.”
“Not the breakup part—”
“Right. Because you don’t date.”
“I didn’t before.” He gestured to the space between them. “This is very much a date. And you are very much my woman.”
Heat washed into her belly. Ignoring the sensation, she picked up her wine, tapping her manicured fingernail against the glass as she studied him in the flickering candlelight.
“So you’ve had women curse you out and throw things when you told them they were only a one-night stand?”
“I have, unfortunately.” He watched her face intently. “Does that bother you?”
She forced a shrug. “Why would it bother me?”
He just looked at her.
She sipped her wine and looked around at the glittering city lights. “I can’t get over this view. It’s—”
“Don’t change the subject.”
She returned her gaze to Logan’s. His eyes were dark as molasses, trapping her in their probing depths.
“What’s on your mind?” he murmured.
She lowered her glass to the table, twisting the stem between her fingers. “I guess I don’t like thinking of you with other women. I hate it, actually.”
When his eyebrow lifted ever so slightly, the words came tumbling out. “I hate the way women fawn over you and throw themselves at you. I hate that there are a crap ton of social media pages devoted to worshipping you and your big dick. And don’t even get me started on that blasted Under Armour commercial. Today at the food court, Aunt Rosalie and I sat near a table of girls who were watching your commercial on their phones. You should have heard the X-rated things they were saying about you, Logan. They couldn’t have been older than twelve!” she exclaimed in outrage. “It was disturbing and infuriating, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I wanted to strangle a bunch of tweens for lusting after my boyfriend. Honestly, I’ve never in my life felt so freaking possessive over a guy. I absolutely hate it, but I can’t help the way I feel.”
In the ensuing silence, Logan stared at her as if he’d never seen her before.
Mortified by her verbal diarrhea, she tossed back the rest of her wine and set the empty glass down with a sharp clink.
A slow smile lifted the corners of Logan’s mouth.
“It’s not funny,” she snapped.
“I’m not laughing,” he insisted, even as his eyes sparkled with laughter. “Believe me, baby, I understand exactly where you’re coming from.”
“Oh, please,” she snorted. “How could you possibly understand? I’m not a famous sex symbol with millions of guys jerking off to my picture—”
His brows slammed together, all traces of amusement gone. “Please don’t put that thought in my head,” he growled. “You already know how I feel about guys checking you out. It makes me fucking homicidal. Speaking of which, have you heard from the professor again?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Liar.”
She both hated and loved the fact that Logan could read her so well. Right now she mostly hated it. “He called this morning,” she reluctantly admitted.
Logan’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “What did he want?”
“He wanted to know why I’d been ignoring his calls and texts.”
“And what did you tell him?”
“I told him the truth. That you and I are dating now.”
Logan’s eyes flashed with satisfaction. “How did he take it?”
She sighed. “Not very well.”
Logan’s jaw clenched. “What did he say? Did he insult you?”
“It doesn’t matter.” She wasn’t about to repeat Ephraim’s angry warnings. Especially not when a small part of her feared that he was right.
“He’d better not call you again,” Logan grumbled.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Meadow sighed. “Logan—”
“You should get your number changed.”
“That’s really not nec—”
“Now that you’re living in Denver, it makes sense for you to have a number with the local area code.”
She gave him a longsuffering look. “He’s not going to call again, Logan. If he does, I’ll just ask him to stop. Or I’ll block his number. All right?”
Logan focused on his glass, tracing the rim with his thumb. He looked unhappy.
She sighed and shook her head at him. “I don’t understand why this is bothering you so much. You and I are together now. Ephraim is a nonfactor. Why are you so threatened by him?”
“Because he’s your type,” Logan said flatly.
She stared at him, unsure what to say to that.
He lifted stormy eyes to hers. “Let’s not pretend he isn’t the type of guy you prefer. You even said that marrying him would be the next best thing to being an astronomer yourself. Remember that?”
She felt her face heat up. “I was angry. I didn’t mean—”
“No. You did mean it.” Logan tightened his
jaw, fiddling with his empty glass. “We both know you’re more compatible with Ephraim. He has a fucking doctorate in astrophysics whereas I’m just now taking my first college course this fall, and God only knows how long it’s gonna take me to finish my degree—”
“You’re a professional athlete,” Meadow sputtered. “You’ve been playing in the NHL—and earning millions—since you were eighteen years old! How many of your peers are even thinking about going back to school? And while you’re over here comparing yourself to Ephraim’s academic bona fides, he probably wishes he had just an ounce of your insane athletic talent!”
Logan sat brooding into his glass. “I guess I’m afraid you’re gonna wake up one day and regret choosing me over him. Like maybe we’ll be out stargazing one night and I won’t know the difference between a comet and an asteroid. Then you’ll look at me and think to yourself ‘What the hell am I doing with this idiot?’”
Meadow felt a giggle bubble up in her throat.
He glared at her. “You think this is funny?”
“No way!”
“Then why are you trying not to laugh?”
“I’m not!”
As he scowled and splashed more wine into their glasses, she shook her head, amazed that a guy who looked like him could ever doubt his ability to keep a woman. His abandonment issues ran deep. So deep she wondered if he could ever be truly healed.
She reached across the table and put her hand on his. “I’m not going to regret choosing you, Logan. You’re the only one for me.”
He stared down at her hand, the candlelight casting shadows over his beautiful face. “The professor’s a perfect match for you.”
“Except he’s not,” she said softly. “He’s a brilliant scholar, and I have tremendous respect for him. But he’s not the man I love. I’m in love with the man who used to defend me against bullies, who always saved me the last slice of pizza whether I wanted it or not. I’m in love with the man who overcame devastating obstacles to reach the top of his sport. I’m in love with the man who mentors troubled boys to help them make the right choices and avoid the same pitfalls he experienced. I’m hopelessly in love with the man who opened his heart and his wallet and built a dream home for hundreds of children in need.” She squeezed his hand, her voice growing quietly earnest. “No one has ever made me feel the way you do, Logan. I love you with all my heart, and there’s no one I’d rather go stargazing with than you.”
She could see the ghost of a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He turned his palm up to thread his fingers through hers, setting off flutters in her stomach. Her pulse tripped as he brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth, his eyes meeting hers across the table.
“Eres el amor de mi vida,” he said in a low, husky voice. “You are the love of my life.”
Everything inside her completely melted. “I feel the same way about you,” she whispered to him. “And that won’t ever change.”
He let his smile break free. It took her breath away.
When H.E.R.’s “Every Kind of Way” started playing, she beamed with delight. “I love this song. It always makes me think of you.” She began crooning the words to him, wishing she could sing like Scarlett.
He didn’t seem to mind her efforts. Smiling, he relaxed back into his chair and drank his wine, never taking his gaze off her as she serenaded him. Feeling extra playful, she slipped off her shoe and rubbed her foot against his calf, watching his eyes glimmer with pleasure.
“Higher,” he rumbled.
She tucked her toes up inside his pant leg and stroked his warm skin. His eyes grew even more heavy lidded, seductive and hungry.
“Higher.”
She danced her toes up to his knee and stopped. When he reached down to grab her foot, she giggled impishly and pulled away.
He gave her a surly grin. “Such a damn tease.”
She laughed and dabbed the corners of her mouth with her napkin, then set it beside her empty plate with a rapturous sigh. “Thank you so much for dinner, Logan. The meal was absolutely delicious and the wine pairing was superb.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed everything,” he said warmly. “Ready for some dulce de leche?”
“Ooh, yum!” She patted her full stomach and grinned. “Give me about half an hour.”
He smiled that wicked smile at her. “That gives us time to enjoy some after-dinner entertainment.”
“Oh? What do you have in mind?”
His eyes gleamed. “You up for some bachata dancing?”
She laughed, delighted. “I was wondering when I’d get to meet Bachata Bae.”
He cocked one sexy eyebrow. “Bachata Bae?”
She grinned. “That’s what Bianca and Ana call you. They can’t stop gushing over what an amazing dancer you are.” She bit her lip. “Frankly, after seeing your commercial, I’m a little intimidated.”
“Don’t be,” he chuckled. “I’ll teach you the steps. It’s all in the hips and footwork.”
“I don’t know, Logan,” she said dubiously. “I’ve seen YouTube videos. It looks harder than you make it sound.”
“Aren’t you in a black sorority? Isn’t having good rhythm practically a requirement for those complicated step show routines?”
She laughed. “Okay. Point taken.”
He gave her a sexy grin, then got up and went to change the music. As the jaunty notes of a bachata song started playing, he sauntered back to the table, his hips already moving as he held out his hand to her.
“Baila conmigo,” he said in a voice like silk.
She almost creamed in her panties. Heart jackhammering, she put her hand in his and let him lead her to the middle of the floor.
“Don’t worry, querida. You’re in good hands.”
She smiled up at him. “I have no doubt.”
He winked and put his hand on the middle of her back. His fingers on her bare skin sent heat swirling low and fast in her stomach. Every hair on her flesh stood on end.
He linked his other hand with hers, holding them high. “Just follow my lead.”
“Okay.” She was already breathless.
“It’s basically one-two-three-pop. One-two-three-pop.” He wound his hips in time with the music. She marveled at his effortless movements, at the innate sexuality emanating from every muscle. He danced the way he fucked, with his whole body and soul. It made him a highly distracting dance partner.
When she stumbled, his hand tightened on her back, steadying her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly.
“You’re doing fine,” he said soothingly. “Just relax and soak in the music. Let it get in your blood.”
“Mmm. Good advice.” She shivered as his big hand guided her while the singer crooned in Spanish. “I like this song. What’s it called?”
“‘Asalto’ by Prince Royce.”
“‘Asalto’?”
“Sí.” Logan’s eyes glinted wickedly as he translated some of the lyrics. “Es un asalto a tu corazón…It is an assault on your heart. Voy a quitarte la camisa y adueñarme de tu amor…I’m going to take off your shirt and take over your love….”
“Oh my.” Meadow could feel damp heat gathering between her legs. Her upper body was almost flush with Logan’s, her breasts touching his chest. She curved one hand behind his neck as she stared into the dark pools of his eyes. He was so sexy. So freaking hot she almost combusted on the spot.
“That’s it, sorority girl. Now you’re getting the hang of it.” He grinned down at her rhythmically shuffling feet. “I knew you’d be a fast learner.”
She grinned up at him. “True confession? I’ve been practicing.”
“Ahh, so you could be ready for me,” he crooned with husky delight. “Good girl.”
She gave him a saucy wink. Her vibrant tangerine dress was perfect for dancing the bachata. The flouncy hem flared out around her thighs as she twirled and swiveled her hips to the music. Logan couldn’t take his eyes off her.
“You’re so beautiful,
baby,” he breathed. “So unbelievably fucking beautiful.”
“Ay, papi chulo,” she cooed teasingly. “You’re such a charmer.”
“Just speaking the truth, cariño.”
They smiled intimately at each other as they danced to the pulsing tempo of the music. She was dizzy with his masculine scent, intoxicated by the feel of his body moving sinuously against hers. The man had some serious moves. If it were biologically possible to get pregnant from dancing, she’d already be in her third trimester.
“That’s right, mamacita,” he purred approvingly. “Show me whatcha got.”
He took her hand and twirled her around, making her dress swoosh around her legs as he pulled her back against him. She could feel his quickened breath on the back of her neck as he nuzzled her while keeping rhythm with the music.
Her pulse was racing wildly, and her blood simmered and sizzled in her veins. As his hips ground seductively against her ass, she looked back at him from beneath her lashes.
“You’re so good at this,” she whispered.
“You bring out the best in me.” His voice rumbled low against her ear. “You’re the best partner I’ve ever had. In every way.”
His words made her shiver before he twirled her back around to face him. She laughed breathlessly, her head tipped back as the stars twinkled above them. She felt boneless, exhilarated, positively electrified.
As the song changed to something slower, Logan’s hand tightened on her back, drawing her deeper into his sensual embrace. She melted against him, their eyes meeting in a slow dance of heat and promise.
They moved rhythmically together, their hips rolling against each other, thighs brushing with every step and turn. It was an unbelievably sexy dance and the music was just as steamy, punctuated by suggestive moans and groans.
“Talk about dirty dancing,” Meadow breathed.
Logan smiled darkly and started speaking Spanish to her. The husky litany of words snaked deep between her thighs. She couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she didn’t need a translator to interpret the lustful intent burning in his eyes.
His body was pressed into hers, his knee gently parting her legs while his hips undulated against hers. She could feel the thick bulge of his erection sliding against her belly. A sizzling, demanding ache pulsed between her thighs as her eyes drifted from his face to the strong column of his throat exposed by his open shirt collar. Her fingers itched to loosen the remaining buttons and roam over his muscular chest.
Sin Bin Page 54
